


back in time through centuries

by junko (orphan_account)



Category: Black Widow (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, F/M, Gen, Museums
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-09
Updated: 2014-08-09
Packaged: 2018-02-12 11:36:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2108376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/junko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Don't you have to be in the WWII wing?” she asks James with a lifted eyebrow. He takes a sip from his coffee and grins.</p>
<p>“Nope, it's Steve's turn; I've got the afternoon shift. I just came in to make fun of you.”</p>
<p>“And bring me coffee,” Natasha adds, staring at him meaningfully. He does a double-take, looks down at his coffee, and sighs, handing over the cup. She smiles sweetly and downs it in one go, leaving red lipstick stains on the plastic lid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	back in time through centuries

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jomh3](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=jomh3).



> this was assignment no. 52 for the marvelrarepareexchange. i'm pinch-hitting since the original giver had to drop out.
> 
> i really hope you enjoy it even though it's last minute!! your prompt left a lot of liberty so i hope you like what i decided to go with, which is an au where they all work in a museum. yeaah. 
> 
> title is from laughter lines from bastille probably

The group of tourists move into the museum curiously, glancing at banners advertising exhibits, making their way towards the ticket office.

Natasha is leaning against the wall just inside the main hallway, perfectly comfortable and poised in her pencil skirt and towering heels. Even when wearing them, she only barely comes up to James' chin, a fact which he loves to rub in.

“I can see at least two Germans,” James remarks, smirking. “Socks-and-sandals at two 'o clock.” 

Natasha rolls her eyes, nevertheless glancing out of the corner of her eye. He's right. There's also an elderly couple from New Jersey, a group of teenage girls who speak Russian with a Yekaterinburg accent, and two college students from NYU that she's spoken to before. All in all, ten people. Not bad, for an early morning tour.

“Don't you have to be in the WWII wing?” she asks James with a lifted eyebrow. He takes a sip from his coffee and grins.

“Nope, it's Steve's turn; I've got the afternoon shift. I just came in to make fun of you.”

“And bring me coffee,” Natasha adds, staring at him meaningfully. He does a double-take, looks down at his coffee, and sighs, handing over the cup. She smiles sweetly and downs it in one go, leaving red lipstick stains on the plastic lid.

“It's not vodka, Nat, jeez,” James laughs, taking the empty cup back and chucking it into a nearby bin. Perfect aim, as usual, and he crows at his success. Natasha snorts at him; it was hardly a challenge.

“If you really wanted to, you could split the morning shift with me. You could take the second tour of the morning and I could cover for you tomorrow afternoon. If you really wanted to, of course,” she says instead, shrugging innocently.

James grins and leans against the wall, an arm brace over her shoulder and his ankles crossed. “I could do that, sure, but you aren't specialized in the American army during WW2. You're specialized in the Cold War and espionage. It would be unfair to offer our wonderful clients an unworthy tour because the tour guide didn't know the subject.”

“I know everything,” Natasha says, dead-pan. “I'll take the Russian Revolution exhibit.”

“Deal,” James says, dropping his arms to her waist and leaning in to kiss her neck briefly. He pulls back, pats her hair. “Good luck, don't kill anyone.”

“No promises,” she shoots back, just as he pushes off to leave and the tour group comes around the corner.

“Hi!” she turns to face them, a pleasant smile on her face. “I'll be your guide for the Cold War exhibit this morning. If everyone could please follow me?” She repeats the instructions in Russian and German, and the tourists split into wide grins.

James waggles his fingers in a wave as she leads them past. She only barely doesn't flip him off in return. Barely.

/ / / / / 

She's unpacking her salad at lunch when Steve slides into the seat next to her with his own lunch bag and a smile. She's trained him not to ask if he can sit with her anymore; Natasha never knew it was possible for a human being to be so polite until she met Steve Rogers.

“Hi,” he greets instead, putting his things down. “Did you really manage to swap shifts with Bucky?”

Natasha manages not to roll her eyes at the childhood nickname. Unfortunately, she's gotten used to it, ridiculous as it is. “I am a master manipulator,” she replies with a quirked smile. She puts her napkin on her lap and pulls her plate closer. Steve is a notorious food-stealer, but he hides it with his innocent smile and baby eyes. She has no clue where he's putting all the food he eats, but damn.

Steve is telling her about his morning when James finally throws himself across from them, slumping against the table. Steve's story trickles to a stop as James just groans loudly.

After a moment: “Aren't you going to ask why I'm moaning?”

“No, not really, no,” Natasha takes a sip of her tea and shrugs.

“It's because you tricked me into taking your second morning shift,” James continues, talking over her. “You evil, evil woman. You used your,” he flaps his hand in her general direction, “Wiles.”

He turns as if he only just noticed Steve. “Hey, punk.”

“Jerk,” Steve says back automatically, and James smiles as he opens up his take-out carton.

“Did you bring leftover Chinese to work?” Natasha asks, staring. “Has that been in your locker all morning?”

“Yep, getting nice and sweaty in the no air-con heat. The staff room smells like caramel pork and fried rice, you're welcome.” He tries to grab Natasha's fork but she makes a gesture to shank him with it, so he steals her plastic spoon instead and starts scooping food into his mouth.

“Yeah, I don't see why we would be thanking you for that,” Steve says, smiling.

“It's a good metaphor for our current situation, in my opinion,” James spits a little bit of rice out as he talks with his mouth full.

Natasha sighs. “I didn't leave Russia for this.”

The boys laugh, and she grudgingly smiles.

“Anyway, so there was this girl with bright pink hair,” Steve continues, picking up his story where he left off, and the two listen before talking about their own groups, Natasha imitating the girls' accents from her's in Russian and making James laugh. 

Lunch break ends, and they part ways again.

/ / / / / 

Natasha spends her afternoon in Maria's office, going over figures and wondering about editions and annexes to add to the exhibits. Steve comes in a little later to tell them that he finished editing the new exhibit page on their website, and the three of them check over it one last time to make sure it's good before he's out the door again to present the newly-opened exhibit on the USO and WWII propaganda with Sharon.

“Hate to see him go, love to watch him leave.”

Natasha turned around to stare at Hill, who looked back unrepentantly. “You know you like it, too.”

“Yes, yes I do,” she agrees, leaning back in her chair and crossing her legs.

“There's a post-grad student coming around tomorrow at three to check the archives for her thesis, it falls into your area of expertise, so you might want to help her out, I've emailed you the details,” Maria says, all business again, and Natasha nods, gets up to leave.

She still has a couple of hours left until her shift is over, so goes through all her paperwork and goes to check on Sam at the ticket desk, who's new, to see if he's doing okay. She needn't have worried, so she goes home with a clear conscience and feeling a bit proud of the new kid.

They take care of their own, in this team.

/ / / / / 

She meets Steve and James in the staff room, shoulders her handbag as they do their manly hug goodbye thing, and reaches up to kiss Steve on the cheek.

“See you tomorrow!” she says, and he smiles back as she links her arm with James and they head out. 

They take the subway, since it was sunny this morning and they hadn't put gas in the car, and James grumbles about how she tricked him, still. She tells him on turn about Maria's comment, and he laughs so loud that he gets shushed by four people. 

It's raining a little when they get home, so they run inside, laughing a bit like kids when James shakes his head and gets water everywhere. They change into comfy clothes, curl up on the sofa. The cat comes to sit on James' lap and he groans, throwing his head back with a thunk against the armrest.

Natasha pets the cat behind the ears before petting James' hair, and he huffs. “I hope you realize that we can't order Chinese food now, since you already had it for lunch.”

“You highly underestimate how much Chinese food I can eat without getting sick of it,” he shoots back, nudging into her hair.

“Then order it,” she says, and he sighs, digs around for his phone in the cushion while Natasha plays with the cat.

Food ordered, Natasha mentions the interview with the kids tomorrow, and James chuckles. “Remember when that was us?”

“Far too well,” and she shrugs. “So, what shall we do while we wait?” 

“We could make out like teenagers,” James says, smiling innocently, and he must have learned that look from Steve, except for the fact that on him it doesn't work at all.

“We could,” Natasha agrees, and she leans over. They have to do some re-arranging when the cat hisses at the position shift, but they find a comfortable and convenient way to sit and they neck until the doorbell rings, at which point Natasha extracts herself from James' arms.

“I can't believe you choose Chinese food over me!” he yells from the couch, not moving.

“You clearly don't know me at all then,” and Nat winks at the delivery boy and gives a big tip for coming out in the rain.

They sit down to eat, and Natasha makes fun of James for using a spoon again, and they watch superhero cartoons like the responsible, diploma-ed adults they are.

“The Winter Soldier is clearly the best Avenger,” James says through a mouthful of noodles, waving his spoon around. Nat scoffs.

“Excuse you, Black Widow is obviously leagues ahead of him.”

James glances between her and the screen and shrugs. “Yeah, okay, fine,” he concedes, and Natasha grins victoriously. 

“I'm always right,” she crows, and he groans. But she knows that he agrees, so it's okay.

**Author's Note:**

> once again i really hope you like it!!!
> 
> also big shoutout to holly over at the MRPE for organising all of this and giving everyone an opportunity to interact and have fun :) 
> 
> please leave a comment if you like it! you can find me at ladydent or captstella on tumblr.


End file.
